Phil of the Future Retold
by MissIndePENdent20
Summary: Phil of the Future episodes are retold. Some chapters will be seen through Phil's POV and some will be told by Keely. So as always, READ & REVIEW!
1. Future Tutor

Disclaimer: I do not own Phil of the Future. This is set before season 1's episode 1, Future Tutor. References are made to this in season 2's episode 13 'Christmas Break'. Consider listening to One Direction's song, One Way or Another while reading this because that is what this chapter is based on.

I don't know if it's normal for girls from this century to act like that or not, but from the soles of her bright pink sneakers to the tips of her blond hair, she was absolutely amazing. It must have been fate for that coin to roll into her.

"This is bad. This is bad, bad, bad. You kids have got to get that coin back," Dad panicked. "It's made of extra-terrestrial alloy that won't be discovered for another fifty years. And it's our dinner money for Carb City tonight. Now go!"

"Dressed like this?" I questioned.

"Good point," he agreed. "We need a rational explanation. Tell them you're with the Department of Astro-Water-Power, you're here to read their robots."

Luckily, Mom came to the rescue with a decent excuse. "Just tell them you're in a band."

As we were walking down the street, Pim taunted, "Someone's got the hot's for an ancient girl, don't they now?"

"I am _not_ falling for a 2003 girl," I tried to argue. It just so happens that there's no winning with my sister _at all_. No exceptions, even for her sweet and loveable brother.

After that little argument, we arrived at H. G. Wells Jr. & Sr. High School. Navigating around a bit, I pulled out my Wizard to figure out where we were. The screen flashed 'The Library', so by following it's steps, I was able to hustle Pim into what they called 'The Cafeteria'. The look on Pim's face told me that she either hated this century with a passion or had no clue where we were at; I was guessing both.

"What is this? Some kind of kid prison?" she asked me sarcastically.

"I think this is an _ancient_ school," I replied in equal verve just as a boy ran out six inches in front of me and tripped. "I've read about this kind of guy. He's what they call in this century the 'class clown'," I explained. The guy was still trying to pick up his lunch out of the floor. "You're hilarious, screech."

I was too caught up in my 'Back to the Future' in the past moment to realize that the blond was sitting just a few feet away. "There it is. There's the coin," Pim whispered in my ear.

Sneaking up behind her and her friends was extremely simple because they seemed to be ignoring us while their leader, Blondie, was giving a speech about how important the star was to her and the rest of the town called Pickford. All we had to do was sit in the background until the girls moved to get lunch. I hurriedly swiped the coin and turned around to Pim being... well, Pim. "What are you doing?"

"I've got my souvenir," she replied simply.

"Didn't you hear that girl? This is like the town's most treasured possession." Explaining other people's feelings to Pim was hopeless because apparently, she had none of her own.

"Pim, I'm warning you, put it back."

"No," she said.

"Put it down, this isn't yours," I replied, trying to rationalize with her. Over the course of the next few seconds, we broke the star.

"Smooth move," she told me.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no," I said, attempting to put the lid back on the box straight.

"C'mon," said Pim. And I was willing to listen until I witnessed the reaction of the girl named Keely and the bald man beside of her.

Pim and I made it out of the H. G. Wells cafeteria alive, but I was still concerned about what would happen. "I just feel really bad about what we did to Keely," I voiced aloud.

Of course Pim's answer was, "What kind of name is Keely?" Like that helps me at all.

"Asked Pim," I retorted. "Look, we've got to find a way to fix this."

"What are we supposed to do, go back in ti-?" she stopped mid sentence to rephrase. "Yes, I am aware there is a time machine right behind me, but do you really think Dad's going to let us use it? I just mean that unlike you, he doesn't get all goofy over some 2003 girl."

"I'm not getting goofy over a girl from 2003. And she's not stupid." Nice comeback, Phil, I thought to myself.

Pim and I went back in time to try to fix the Yuletide star. Yet again, the fellow from H. G. Wells tripped right in front of me again. "This guy is great," I said. I didn't have time to stop and chat like the last time, but we caught our past selves just in time as we were about to break the star.

"Uh-oh," past Pim said. "Looks like Dad messed up the space-time continuum again."

"No, no," I assured her. "Dad doesn't know we're here. We used the time machine to go back in time to make sure you don't break the Yuletide star."

Then my past self rooted hisself in. "Really, you took the time machine without telling Dad. You're in so much trouble. Or I am..."

"Don't get excited," Pim said. "He's just crushing on some blond girl."

"I knew it!" the other one replied.

"I am not," me and myself snapped simultaneously.

I removed the box from my sister's past tense form of herself and set it on the table where Keely had left it. "Let's go," I said.

That worked until someone came and threw their bag onto it, crushing the star, just to pick it up and walk away again. I know 2121 isn't alway nice, but did people from the 21st century have to be so rude?

Pim refused to go this time, giving me the excuse that she was nautilus to get out of going, so I traveled back in time by myself. Everything worked like clockwork from there. I even ran into the past Phils and Pims on the way.

"Sweet timing grab, man," Phil 1 said.

"Couldn't have done it better myself," Phil 2 agreed.

"Thanks," I replied to the expense of my sister(s) rolling her eyes. "Team effort. Anyway, we should get going." Everyone was already out of the lunchroom but me when I heard a smash and another crash from behind. Turning around to see the star break for what was it now? The fifth time today?

This time when I time-traveled back, I took the unbroken one to the broken one and swapped them out after everyone tried to break it. "But the whole town is going to hate me," she told the balded guy.

"There, there, things are never as bad as they seem," he consoled. The distraction was enough to allow me to swap the boxes. She took a double take at the Yuletide star, opening the box to find the one I'd preserved for fifteen extra minutes.

"Oh my gosh, this is a Christmas miracle. It was smashed in ten million little pieces," she said in shock.

"Uh-huh," he replied, eager to get back to doing whatever boring position he held around here. Now that the star was safe, I was able to go back to the time machine/RV parked on the curb of the property for sale place. The thing is that while I was gone, my parents, my vintage, retro, dorky parents, decided to buy the house for diamonds. Of course, diamonds aren't a rarity in the future. In fact, they got them from the exhaust pipe of the time machine, so they thought they were getting the better end of the bargain. While I might have a hectic holiday, I hope Keely has a Merry Christmas and a happy tree-lighting ceremony.


	2. Future Jock

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phil of the Future. This is based on season 1's episode 2, Future Jock. Consider listening to Kelly Clarkson's song, I Do Not Hook Up, (Keely's POV) because this chapter is somewhat based on it. The theme of the song is that it doesn't matter how much the guy impresses the girl, she's still not going to date him.**

"Good morning students, this is Vice Principal Hackett! The temperature is a balmy eighty-six degrees; which is not an excuse for showing off your belly buttons people," Hackett announced disapprovingly. He always took pride in telling the H. G. Wells morning announcements every morning, thinking it would make him seem like one of the 'cool guys'. "Moving on to sports. Our gymnastics team won their second meet in a row, thanks in large part to Mr. Troy Hewitt."

His announcement brought much applause to our Language Arts class, mostly due to the fact that Troy was in the room.

"Troy came away with eight medals in all, setting the new school record! Troy, from one terrific athlete to another, keep up the great work," Hackett said in all seriousness. How does he consider himself an athlete? "What? Ballroom-dancing is a sport," he argued with the cameraman. Hackett finally turned off the camera to save himself from further embarrassment.

"Now that our esteemed Mr. Hackett is through," Mrs. Hart started. "I'd like everyone to pass up last night's homework." That was the moment Troy chose to leap to the floor into a handstand, walking toward the front of the room to hand in his grammar assignment from yesterday.

"Wow, can you believe he's doing that?" I asked in amazement.

"Yeah," Phil said in disbelief. "But he's about to walk where Hightower threw up last week."

* * *

As Phil and I met up for lunch after second period, we passed Troy at the jock's table, telling how full of himself he is about being such a great gymnast.

"I don't get it," Phil said. "I mean, first he wins a medal and then he gives it away. What's the point?"

I would've answered him, had I not been tantalizing over how cool it would be if I could get one. Then I thought, 'Hey, Keels, why don't you go ahead and get one. There's nothing stopping you.' "Hey, I want one," I said enthusiastically.

"Hey, you want a medal?" Troy asked as I approached.

"Yeah, sure," I said as I took the medal with verve.

"That looks good on you," he flirts. "Take another."

"Thanks, Troy," I toyed back.

After school, Phil caught up with me out at the bike parking. "Hey, Keels, want to go to the store with me before you go home?"

"Sure," I replied, thankful not to have to be at home with my mother. Mondays were always the worst. My mother got home before I did on Monday, so I have to spend more than six hours with a hyperactive, ex-cheerleader and get used to not sleeping in on weekends.

* * *

"And thanks to budget cuts, ketchup is once again a vegetable," Hackett loomed on.

"Does anyone have the clicker?" I asked, getting tired of his antics. All I wanted to do was get caught up on yesterday's news and finally get this cuticle filed, not have to sit here and listen to a man with no hair trying to fit in with a bunch of jocks.

"Now from the world of sports," he began. Now _that_ was interesting. "Babe Ruth, Johnny Unitas, Man of War, Phil Diffy?" That caught my attention. Since when was Phil a rising athlete? "In a story ripped from the headlines, this young athlete has come out of nowhere to help our gymnastics team win tonight as they lock horns with the Westbrook Vikings."

Alright, now I was skeptical. "Phil, are you kidding me?" I whispered behind me.

"Shh!" he pointed to the monitor as the video cut to the gymnastics coach.

"He's like an angel, an angel that has flown through the window of my tiny apartment!" he bragged.

Another clip of Hackett in a different sound booth asked Phil what it was like to be him. "I just wanted to join the team, I wasn't expecting all this attention."

"Reporting for the H. G. Wells Witness News team, throwing it back to the handsome guy in the booth," the sound-byte said modestly. Finally, it cut back to the live Hackett as he smiled and replied, "Thanks, Neil!" I rolled my eyes for the fifth time that morning. "On a personal note, this vice-principal is so certain we'll win tonight, I've gone ahead and made a friendly little wager with Vice-Principal Jergens over at Westbrook. Loser wears a wedding dress."

I might actually want our school to lose so I can watch how that all unfolds. It would certainly be a social media moment that Tia and I wouldn't miss.

"Alright, Mr. Diffy!" Mrs. Hart cried joyfully. "Okay, everybody, let's open our books and turn to page forty-two."

"You didn't tell me you were a gymnast," I turned to whisper as Mrs. Hart walked by.

"No big deal," he shrugged as he turned to converse with Troy.

All of this happening at once made me wonder what Phil was up to. This was a bit spur of the moment for me to entirely believe.

* * *

That night at the gymnastics meet, I snagged a front row seat with Phil's parents and his devious sister, Pim. For some reason she was extra happy today and I was wondering what brand of honey Phil would be washing out of his hair in the morning. "Next on the vault, Phil Diffy!" the loudspeaker echoed. "This is Phil's first meet as a member of the H. G. Wells Astronauts. Good luck, Phil," he mimicked a false voice.

For some reason, Phil was taking a lot longer than all of the other contestants to get on the mat. Pim was ironically laughing as coach was trying to talk Phil into a more positive mood. "Phil Diffy, we're waiting," the broadcaster announced.

Suddenly, he broke into a running stride and instead of jumping onto the vault, jumped onto the bar and twirled too many times to count. Eventually he used coach's arms as a landing pad as the judges all held up a simultaneous 0. I felt a little sorry for him because I mean, he did have a lot of pressure thrust on him at once. On the other hand, I could always use the fact that Hackett would have to wear a dress to cheer him up.

While everyone else was still dealing with what had just happened, now was as good a time as any to go get popcorn while no one would be in line. As a matter of fact, when I walked to the concession stand, everyone else seemed to have had the same idea. When I finally grew impatient of waiting in line, I tossed the popcorn idea out the window as I went to see if Phil was out of the locker room yet.

I waited for Phil's parents to finish talking with him before I showed up and overwhelmed him with people. "Hey, Phil," I smiled. "So, um, what was that thing with the twirling and the screaming? What was that?"

"Let me be honest with you," he said exasperated. "I'm not really a gymnast."

I admitted, "Yeah, I kind of figured that out, but why would you get out there then?"

He sighed. "Because people are impressed by athletes. I mean, you're impressed with Troy, right?"

"I'm also impressed by tall buildings," I began. "So, you did _all this _for me?"

"And for all the kids in the stand who couldn't afford the circus," he joked.

"You know Phil, I've lived in Pickford my whole life. Everybody around here is so easy to figure out, but you're not like that. And I like that." I've always heard that your best friends are the people you can sit in silence with forever and still be comfortable with it, so it seemed only fitting that we were quiet for the next few minutes. Finally, I broke the silence saying, "So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"


	3. Corner Pocket

**A/N: I do not own anything about Phil of the Future at all. This is based on the episode 3 (Corner Pocket). Consider listening to Jessie J.'s Who You Are (Phil's POV) while reading this, because that's what this chapter is based on.**

* * *

"So, how'd it go?" I asked.

"I was doing great!" she exclaimed. "Unfortunately, a vending machine got in my way... I don't even think a Senior Nugget will cheer me up."

I sighed. "I'm sorry you didn't make the squad, Keels."

"Thanks, I guess I'll get over it, but I'm not sure someone else I know will," she admitted.

"Who's that?" I questioned as a short, bubbly woman came trotting in the gymnasium lobby with a garland of roses and a 'Congratulations!' ribbon. Now I knew the answer: her mother.

"Oh, my sweet, luscious love-muffin!" she squealed as she put the wreath around Keely's neck. "So, what's the good news?"

Keely hesitated as she said, "I- I made it! Yeah, I'm a cheerleader." The woman screamed and engulfed Keely in a bear hug.

"Phil, c'mon, get in this hug!" Keely's mom cried. "Oh, this is the happiest day of my life, it really is!"

It must have been really important to Keely for her mother to be happy if she was going to great lengths to lie to her. The look Keely passed me in the group hug told me she wanted my help to keep up the charade.

* * *

When I got home, I went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and found the table and counter-tops filled with pitchers of milk. Milk? I have the weirdest family. I continued to get the water and walked out to my backyard to see my mom with more milk.

"Butter," she began. "The everlasting delight of the gourmand! The tasteful ally of the culinary art and toast's best friend!"

"Mom, can I talk to you for a sec?" I asked. I felt really awful about what I was about to do for Keely and I wanted her advice before I went off and did anything on impulse like I usually do.

"Sure, I'm just reliving Lleida time travel. Remember how much fun we had?" she recalled. "Your dad popped a wheely in the buggy cart and Pim got bitten by the duck. Making butter is harder than it looks, my arms are cramping up."

"Looks like it took a 'churn' for the worst," I joked.

"C'mon, I could use a break. What's on your mind?" she questioned.

I took a deep breath and started my short story. "Keely didn't make the cheerleading squad and she told her mother she did, so now she wants my help to keep her believing that. I just don't get why she would lie to her mom like that."

"Oh, Phil, mothers and daughters have very complicated relationships. I know from personal experience," she explained.

I reasoned, "I guess she only wants her mom to be happy."

"But ultimately it won't, honey," she advised. "Keely's got to tell her mother the truth sooner or later, and from personal experience I would suggest you help her get it over with sooner."

"Thanks, Mom," I replied. I guess it does make sense for me to help Keely tell her mom the truth...

* * *

"Pretty please, Keels, for me?" I begged for the umpteenth time this afternoon. I was thinking that if I kept annoying her with it, she would give in just to get me to stop talking about how wrong it was to pretend to be someone you're not.

"Fine," Keely started. "If I do this, will you come with me?"

"Does this mean you cave?" I asked.

She countered, "Will you come with me?"

"Okay! I'll go!" An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, I lectured myself on the way to the local realty office where Keely's mom works. To feel good about myself for helping Keely, I had to help her take baby-steps.

"Hi, we'd like to speak with Ms. Teslow, please," I requested to the secretary at the front desk.

As we walked to the main offices and to the glass door separating us from Ms. Teslow, Keely said, "Phil, maybe she's busy."

So she was on the phone, what difference did that make? She would hang up in a few minutes anyway. "C'mon, Keels, you can do this," I said encouragingly.

I opened the door for her and she stepped in as her mother shrieked, "Oh, what a surprise! What are you two doing here?"

"Just in the neighborhood, t-thought we could talk," Keely stuttered.

"Of course, sit, sit!" she gestured to the chairs in her office. "Hey, would you like some water? How 'bout a promotional coffee mug, or some tube socks?" With the mention of each object, she threw one on the table.

"Thanks," I replied.

"Your welcome! So, butternut, what did you want to talk about?" Now the ball was in Keely's court and it was up to her to make the game winning shot and tell the truth about what had happened.

"Um, it's about being a cheerleader," she started. "Well, there can be a lot of pressure put on you-"

Ms. Teslow smiled and said, "Listen, jellybean, I know right where this is going."

"You do?" Keely cried.

"Sure, when I was a cheerleader, I had to come up with new cheers all the time. It can be a lot of pressure on a person. So let me show you a little trade secret, change up your cheers, be as creative as possible-" she was interrupted by intercom and we had to sit in silence for a few minutes. After she was done handling a client, she continued, "After I retire from real estate and I'm home everyday, cheerleading will be the single, most precious thing that get's me through the day!"

"You're kidding," I said.

"No," Keely and her mother replied in unison. Great, this made it that much harder.

"Well, is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" she asked.

"No, actually," I answered rather quickly. We could break the news to her later, but right now was not a good time after what she just said.

Suddenly Ms. Teslow gasped as though she just remembered something. "Guess what? I have Thursday afternoon off, so I get to come and watch you cheer, how great is that!?"

My heart sank right then and there. There was no way we could pull this one off, so we just said our goodbyes and all but ran out of the building.

* * *

"So we're actually going to cheer at a football game?" she asked me.

"No, not football," I answered.

She smiled, "Oh, well then basketball!"

"No," I dragged out.

"Tennis? Soccer?" she guessed.

"Still not it," I replied. "Billiards!"

"Cheerleaders at a billiards match? I didn't even know H. G. Wells had a billiards team!"

I grinned and said, "They don't. You see the Spirit Squad has assigned a few of it's member's to every school sporting event so they can 'spread the spirit around'."

"Really?" she asked.

"No, but that's what we're going to tell your mom."

"I like it," she started. "Can I invite Tia? I can call her tonight, you know"

"Sure," I said. This had to be my worst idea ever, but in the long run I'd hoped it would help Keely realize she is who she is and she doesn't need to change for anyone, even her mother.

* * *

"Oh, honeysuckle, I'm so proud!" Ms. Teslow all but screamed from the stands. I'd cloned three H. G. Wells outfits with my Wizard and wore my own pants so I wouldn't look like a cross-dresser wearing a mini-skirt.

All through the game of pool, I was on my feet with Tia and Keely, performing skits and shout-outs for Seth.

Unexpectedly, Keely stood up and exclaimed, "Phil, it's her dream. Not mine! My whole life, my mom's told me how great cheerleading would be. My mom was a cheerleader, Grandma Hayes was a cheerleader, but now I realize I don't want to be one!"

"You should tell your mom that," I said sarcastically, knowing Ms. Teslow had heard every word.

She turned around to see her mother with her eyebrows raised. "Mom, I'm not a cheerleader, it's true. I'm sorry-"

Keely's apology was cut off by the announcer on the over-head saying, "Will all mother daughter conflicts please be moved to the parking lot? We've got a really tight game here!"

Keely and her mom walked into the lobby and I turned to follow. I caught up with Keely first and said, "I guess it was kind of a bad idea. I mean, what were we going to do, be a roving band of cheer bandits? I'm sorry, Ms. Teslow."

"It's okay, Phil. I know you were just trying to help, but Keely you're my person, my most important person," she began. "And when you're being honest with yourself like you were today, that's when you're being honest with me. Don't lose who you are just to please another person, honey." It looked like my plan had worked after all.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked it! I know it wasn't as different as my other chapters, but if I added much more I thought some people might give up on the story. I apologize to my loyal fans who wouldn't have minded, but I will update soon, so READ & REVIEW!**


	4. You Say Toe-Mato

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phil of the Future. This is set in season 1's episode 4, 'You Say Toe-Mato'. Consider listening to Cher Lloyd's song, Oath, while reading because that is what this chapter is based on.**

"Phil, do you know what this is?" Keely asked with distaste.

"Yeah, it's a flute," I replied.

"No, it's a musical spit catcher," she told me, letting the liquid pour out of the pipe. "Phil, that can't be healthy."

"Here, rehydrate," I said, tossing some orange juice to her.

"I don't know why I thought I could play the flute. Did you ever play an instrument?" she questioned. After all, we just met three days ago. Surely, no one could figure out I was from the future that fast.

"Yeah, fybel," I replied.

"Did you blow in it? Were there strings? Did you hate it?"

"Exactly, all those things," I said, not really knowing what to say since I wasn't from this century.

The look flash over Keely's face and knew that she was about to change the subject. You know for such a level-headed town, 2003 people just don't understand a lot. And when they don't understand, they tend to start a conversation about something else. "So, I tried to call and talk to you about the field trip last night," Keely said.

"Oh, yeah, I was out riding my bike," I covered.

"Really, you're mom said you went for a walk."

"Yeah, I did. I took a bike ride, but then I got a flat tire and had to walk the bike back. So, technically, I guess it was really a walk." The ideas I have to come up with for my parents crazy ideas. "So, anyway, about the field trip. Where are we going?"

I could tell I'd struck on a topic that interested her because her blue eyes lit up like a firework. "To the Pickford Tomato Ranch!" she said excitedly. "You didn't know that Pickford was the tomato capital of the world, did you?"

"That's why there's a giant squeeze bottle in the town square," I said with realization.

"I know it sounds lame, but it's actually kind of cool. At the end of the tour, everyone can get in the stomping tub and stomps tomatoes. Anyway, it's all squishy and messy and barefoot-" she tried to ramble.

"Barefoot!?" I questioned.

"Yeah, what's the matter?"

"I can't," I replied. I had almost forgotten that people from this time period wouldn't lose their pinky toe for several more years.

"Can't what?"

"Go to Pickford Ranch, because I'm allergic to tomatoes," I lied.

The lie would have worked, had I not been eating a hotdog with ketchup on it. "Phil, you're about to eat ketchup right now," she pointed out.

"Thanks," I said lamely while I went to go throw it in the trash.

When I finally motivated my Dad enough to let me go to the Pickford Tomato Ranch, I also had to convince him to build a false pinky toe. After the manager's speech about how tomatoes became Pickford's pride, Keely had to ask the question, "Aren't you allergic to tomatoes?"

"Yeah, I got my allergy shot last night." I come up with the most unbelievable excuses, I'm amazed I'm not in a zoo with my sister for being from 2121.

"Alright, everyone, please remove your shoes and socks," commanded the manager onstage. Everyone rushed down to the ground to pull everything off of their feet while I stood there, looking like a dork not wanting to take his shoes off.

"Excuse me," I said. "Is there a place I can change?"

"Change?" I heard Keely repeat beside me on the cement. "We're just taking off our shoes and socks, Phil."

"Actually, for some of our shy visitors, we do have changing facilities," the man replied from onstage.

When I returned with my fake toe attached, everyone was in the huge tomato barrel. It must have held several gallons of water, but it only had about six inches along with about a hundred tomatoes. I walked into the shallow end of it and wondered whether I should tell Keely about all of this.

After a few minutes in the tomato-water, I lifted my foot back up and to my surprise, the false toe was gone. I found many things, including a few bandages, I heard the manager yell through a megaphone, "Don't move, we've detected a foreign article!"

Knowing it was my toe, I picked up a tomato and threw it at him. However, he chose that exact moment to squat and look for it instead of bending over. This caused the tomato to hit Keely, standing right behind him. She threw one at me, I dodged, causing it to hit someone else behind me, etc. This routine was continued until the whole class was in on it and covered from head to toe in tomatoes.

"Alright, everybody, out of the tub!" the manager screamed from anger. Looking at me he said, "There's always one bad tomato in every bunch."

After the field trip, I was waiting outside the door to H. G. Wells waiting on my Dad to come pick me up. What? I don't have my license because I'm from 2121. Anyway, I heard the door open behind me to see Keely coming out early. "Sometimes I dream I'm married to Mr. Potato Head," she said. "And we have a condo in Florida," she continued.

"What?" I asked dumbfoundedly.

I looked at her like she was crazy as she rambled on. "And I want to be a doctor, but he wants me to stay home and take care of the five spuds."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's my deepest, darkest secret," she confided. "And I know what's going on. I found this in the tomatoes," she said, holding up a clump of clay.

I attempted to lie again, but I still haven't got the hang of doing that in the 21st century yet. "It's not mine."

"And it says 'Property of P. Diffy'," she finished. "Phil, so what? You have four toes and I'm still your best friend. Just promise me no more secrets and we'll tell each other everything."

"Really?" I asked her.

"Yeah, we're on a 100% honesty pact, deal?" she asked.

"Deal," I agreed. For once, I was considering telling her where I was from. As a matter of fact, I think I would before she walked away. "Wait, one more thing."

"What is it? Don't worry," she replied.

"The reason I have four toes it because where I'm from, everyone does," I started. "I grew up over a hundred years from now. I'm from the future." I could only hope that she would give a good response.


End file.
